


At Sea

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara’s boat was berthed down the beach, she’d named it <i>Today</i>, and the ocean was their front yard. (Post-series, alternate canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msgenevieve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/gifts).



> Written for MsGenevieve's brithday.

The ocean was their front yard.

Sara’s boat was berthed down the beach, she’d named it _Today_ , and the ocean was their front yard. Blue-green, endless, constant and yet ever moving.

The boat was a small sloop, simple and manageable, nothing like the luxurious yachts she’d once mentioned, but it did its job when she’d bought it a few years ago, and it did it now more than ever.

Michael always asked the ritual “Permission to come aboard?” before he stepped onto the deck, and he called Sara _Captain_ when they went at sea. It never failed to make Mikey giggle, and had Lincoln smirking knowingly; dirtily. His brother had a dirty mind.

Lincoln got the wrong impression if he thought it was something _like that_. Well, mostly the wrong impression. Sara was the sole master when they were aboard her boat, and Michael, who wasn’t big on releasing control, was quite happy to trust her with his life. She deserved her title.

Granted, Michael was also quite happy to admire the view when she was at the helm, red hair flipped around by the wind, feet planted on the dark wood and old shorts riding high on her shapely legs. So Lincoln wasn’t _entirely_ wrong about Michael’s interests, but that was a different matter. One that had nothing to do with knowing that Sara took the safest course and right decisions, and was never wrong when she said it was time to drop anchor.

Though today — and a few other days, usually when no kid, brother, friends or sister-in-law were around — maybe the call to drop anchor and Michael’s reaction to it did warrant Lincoln’s knowing, dirty, smirk.

They were alone aboard today, and the ripple of the ocean swayed the boat back and forth, right and left, in a hypnotizing, soothing way. Sara’d dropped the anchor in the blue-green water and then her clothes at her feet, rolled her eyes at Michael’s warning about sunburns, and she’d been right. About the course, the anchor, the clothes, the sunburn. Sunburn would be taken care of, if needed, later. As for the rest...

He didn’t need directions or orders for this. He followed her lead, the silent request in her eyes to lie back onto the deck and get ready for her. He helped her down when she straddled him and guided her hips when she lowered herself, said “Aye aye, Ma’am” when she asked if he was comfortable, and gave her a coy smile when she called him a smartass.

 _I’ve been told I was a lot of fun_. Five-year old conversation held on a pier up north, in another lifetime. There had been acceptance in her words, and a hint of sheepishness, but no shame or regret. She’d come to terms with that part of her life. _Be the change you want to see in the world — and accept what you can’t change._

“You _are_ a lot of fun aboard a boat,” he told her gently, because she’d surely been back then, indeed, and she was today; just in different ways, as constant yet ever moving as the ocean that was their front yard.

Fun, and wicked, and so very bad in the best way. She had to know what it did to him when she writhed to adjust herself above him, clenched around him and leaned down to kiss him, her breasts brushing over his chest. He thrust up on pure instinct and gripped her thighs; she frowned and slapped his hands away.

“Let me remind you who’s in charge aboard this boat, Scofield...”

END


End file.
